Felicia sighed. “I guess that excludes Misty Savannah from the pool of suspects. I’m sorry I doubted her.” She shook her head. “I’m beginning to question my judgment altogether.”
“I don’t mean to blow smoke, but we still don’t have all the facts regarding your grandfather. There could be some misunderstanding or explanation we haven’t thought of yet.”
“You’re right.” Despite her words, Felicia didn’t seem cheered. “Speaking of smoke, L.A. is on fire. I’m wondering if a swarm of locusts isn’t on the way next.”
“Don’t joke about it.”
Chase entered the gym and crossed over to Raven and Felicia. Fletcher put down his hand weights and joined them. “Did you get in touch with the vamps?”
“Fairchild has agreed to a meeting at his mansion tonight at nine,” Chase replied.
“Do you trust him?” Raven asked.
“No, but sometimes the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
“Frenemy.” Fletcher shrugged when everyone peered at him. “I’m just saying.”
“An alliance with Fairchild may be a necessary evil, but make no mistake. I trust him to do what’s in his own self-interest,” Chase said.
“What about other vampires?” Raven asked. “Does Fairchild speak for all of them?”
Chase shook his head. “I believe his influence is substantial, but I don’t know the answer to your question. Some may be completely loyal, but others may think for themselves.”
“So in other words, even if we hammer out an agreement with Fairchild, we’ll still have to watch our backs,” Felicia said.
“Yours in particular,” Chase’s gaze flickered up and down her frame, to underscore his point. “To vampires, beautiful women are irresistible.”
A rosy hue appeared on Felicia’s cheekbones as she caught his meaning.
“Now that you mention it, I’m here to work on my backside,” she said. “If you’ll excuse me.”
She stepped onto her treadmill, and Fletcher returned to the hand weights. Raven jerked his head toward the long wooded staffs mounted to the wall.
“Chase, would you care to spar?”
The frown disappeared from the young man’s face. “I hope you don’t bruise easily.”
Raven chuckled. Fletcher wasn’t the only one with an inflated ego.
Ian’s car drove through the pristine, luxurious neighborhood of Bel Air. Felicia sat in the front passenger seat, wishing darkness and falling ash didn’t obscure her view. Her brother, wedged between Raven and Chase in the back, was apparently similarly frustrated.
“I feel like I’m in a snow globe, and I can’t see a thing,” he said.
The gate of Fairchild’s estate was flanked on both sides by fanciful topiary bushes and an ivy-covered wall ten feet high. Although there was a human guarding the gate, security goblins were patrolling outside the property. Evidently Oliver had told his security staff to expect them because the car was waved through without any problems whatsoever.
As they drove up to the magnificent mansion, Felicia’s jaw dropped. “It’s huge! I didn’t realize being a blood-sucking creature of the night was so lucrative.”
“A lot of new vampires live here until they can transition into the undead lifestyle,” Chase said.
“How did Oliver make his money?” Raven asked. “It must cost a fortune to maintain an estate this size in this neighborhood.”
“He was one of the original American aristocracy from seventeenth-century Boston. He surfaced in Los Angeles about sixty years ago as a talent agent, and has reinvented himself several times since then. Now he has his fangs in a great many entertainment enterprises,” Chase said.
“Reinvented himself?” Raven asked. “What do you mean?”
“Even in plastic surgery-obsessed Hollywood, Oliver can only keep one persona about fifteen years before people begin to notice he isn’t aging. He stages his death, lays low for a while, makes a few changes to his appearance, then reemerges as his own son or long lost cousin or something.”
Ian parked the car and set the brake. “Well, this should be interesting.”
A human butler ushered them inside the home, which sparkled like the inside of a jewel box. Spotless black marble floors reflected the light from crystal chandeliers overhead, and the furniture had clean, modern lines. Not like the movie version of Dracula’s Transylvanian castle at all! When Oliver Fairchild came out to meet them, his gaze immediately latched onto Felicia. Although she hadn’t been especially afraid the first time they met, she knew more about him now. The vampire was seductively handsome, certainly, but he radiated extreme danger. I wish I hadn’t come. Without realizing what she was doing, she reached for Chase’s hand. When his warm fingers enclosed hers and gave her hand a reassuring squeeze, she was grateful.
A slight smile played on Oliver’s lips, as if he sensed—and mocked—her fear.
“Welcome to my home. I’ve never had so many Nephilim here at one time before.”
“Allow me to introduce Ian Cassidy,” Chase said. “He’s the one who requested this meeting.”
“Come into the dining room where we can talk.” Oliver chuckled. “Unless I’m entertaining humans, nobody ever goes in there.”
As Felicia followed Oliver through the house, she caught a glimpse of a few residents. Although the vampires had just woken up from the day’s slumber, the creatures were impossibly perfect, with every hair in place. A couple of vampires were lounging in the darkened living room, watching television. One male vampire looked so eerily similar to Nicholai, she almost called out his name. He caught her staring, and she averted her eyes.
When she passed the door to the kitchen, two young pajama-clad vampires were visible at the counter, sipping breakfast smoothies through straws. That red liquid isn’t made of strawberries. A shudder shook her body. Don’t think about it!
In the palatial dining room, an exquisite dark brown mahogany banquet table was built to seat twelve to fourteen people. The plate glass windows offered a view of the spectacular pool outside, which was beautifully lit and featured a waterfall. As they watched, a gorgeous female vampire, sans bathing suit, strolled to the water’s edge and dove in. Beyond the pool was a tennis court.
“This is quite the estate.” Felicia’s observation brought Oliver’s attention back to her and immediately she wished she hadn’t said anything.
“I’ll be happy to give you a personal tour at any time.” He sank in the chair at the head of the table, and gestured for them to be seated. “Where’s the girl with the long legs?”
“At home,” Raven said.
“Let’s get down to business,” Ian said. “You’ve heard the rumors about the impending Apocalypse?”
“Indeed, it’s all the demon community talks of.” Oliver paused. “I understand the Shakespearean Institute is behind it.”
Felicia tried not to sound defensive. “The identities of the culprits are unclear.”
“If Shakespeareans are involved, we don’t stand with them,” Ian said.
“What’s happening is repugnant,” Raven said. “Los Angeles has been inundated with underworld denizens, and it’s creating havoc.”
“True. I can’t get anywhere on the San Diego freeway with all the resulting brush fires,” Oliver said. “How can I help you?”
“We propose an alliance between the Nephilim and your vampires to circumvent this plot and eliminate the hordes of demons who’ve arrived here,” Ian said.
“Turning vampires into demon-slayers is an interesting notion.” Oliver chuckled. “The problem is, your specifics are quite vague.”
“I’m reluctant to identify a culprit before we’re certain, but we believe this person or persons intend to make a blood sacrifice on March first to reveal the shadow world to humankind,” Ian said.
“No Apocalypse, then, but an act which will result in full employment for Shakespeareans. Why do you wish to fight that?”
“Because innocent people will die!” Raven exclai
med.
“There are already too many demons to kill effectively,” Chase said. “The Nephilim are outnumbered.”
Oliver seemed unperturbed. “I see your point, but these are mortal affairs. In fact, the more chaos in the world, the better it is for vampires in general. I’d like nothing better than to live openly.”
“Live openly? Interesting choice of words for the undead,” Fletcher muttered.
“A useful euphemism, I grant you. I’ll talk it over with my associates and let you know if we have any willing warriors among us, but that’s as much as I can do.” When Oliver’s gaze slid to Felicia, her blood ran cold. “Absent any additional inducement, of course.”
“Not going to happen.” Chase and Fletcher spoke at the same time.
“Pity. I’m sorry I can’t offer more help.”
Oliver rose, signaling the end of the meeting. Everyone else followed suit. The vampire excused himself, disappeared down a hallway, and the butler arrived to show them out. Along the way, Felicia paused in the living room doorway. Unfortunately, the television was off and the sofas were empty. Disappointment washed over her. Although she knew it was silly, she’d wanted one more glimpse of the young vampire who’d reminded her of her former dance partner.
Fletcher tugged on her sleeve. “What are you doing? This is no time to linger.”
“One of the vampires here reminded me of Nicholai.”
Fletcher’s eyebrows drew together. “I’m sorry, Felicia. I know you miss him.”
Chase appeared at her side. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh, nothing.” She shrugged. “I just thought I saw a ghost.”
He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “We’re being watched. Let’s get out of here.”
Picking up on Chase’s cue, she made a big show of kissing him on the cheek. “Lead the way, sweetheart.”
On the drive home, the general mood was dour. Although Raven tried to glean some nugget of hope from their meeting with Oliver Fairchild, he was hard pressed to find one.
“That was a disappointment, but I suppose we had to try,” he said finally.
Fletcher frowned. “Do you think Oliver will even ask any other vampires if they want to fight?”
“He didn’t seem very fussed about it, did he?” Felicia said. “You were right about him, Chase—completely.”
“Thank you,” Chase replied. “But I wish he would have come through.”
Raven glanced at his father’s profile. Ian had remained silent since he slid behind the wheel. “What are you thinking, Dad?”
“I’m trying to come up with Plan B.”
“Having any luck?”
“‘Be stirring as the time; be fire with fire; threaten the threatener and outface the brow of bragging horror,’” Ian quoted.
“King John,” Raven replied. “You think we should fight fire with fire, but how?”
“The services of a white warlock. Unfortunately, I don’t know of any.”
“I do,” Chase said. “Mr. Mime.”
“He’s a warlock?” Felicia asked. “He doesn’t seem the type.”
“Don’t let the affable exterior fool you. Mime used to dabble in the dark arts, but he’s since turned to the light. He’s skilled and knowledgeable.”
“It’s too bad his shop is closed or we could go see him now,” Felicia said.
Chase grinned. “I know where he lives.”
“You want me to do what?” Mime exclaimed.
The comical expression on the man’s face would ordinarily have made Raven laugh but he wasn’t in the mood. Chase had shown them to the modest bungalow house Mime shared with his son, Cody, two blocks north of Melrose. Although the berobed fellow had been surprised at the unannounced visit, he’d welcomed them into his home and offered them tea. At the moment, however, he was peering at Ian as if he were criminally insane.
“C’mon, Tata, hear him out,” Cody said. “You have to admit, the city is getting too crowded.”
“But what he’s proposing is an epic exorcism!” Mime protested.
“With every tremor, more and more demons are released from the underworld,” Ian said. “We’d like you to send them back.”
Mime shook his head. “I don’t think such a thing has ever been tried.”
“Can it be done?” Fletcher asked.
“Let me think a moment.”
The warlock rose from his armchair and began to pace. In the meantime, Raven’s gaze focused on the tiny crystals decoupaged onto Cody’s hooves. The satyr noticed his stare. “Don’t let their dainty appearance fool you. My hooves are lethal weapons. To fight demons, I attach my custom-fitted silver horseshoes and bam!”
Raven’s eyebrows rose. “Good to know.”
Mime cleared his throat. “I’d have to create a portal to the underworld within some existing structure. The only challenge would be luring the demons.”
“Not a problem,” Ian said. “They respond to mention of the Scottish play.”
“A lot,” Raven added.
“You don’t understand,” Mime said. “A Nephilim must act as bait or the demons won’t pass through the portal.”
“I’ll do it,” Felicia, Fletcher, Raven, and Chase all spoke at once.
“Your bravery does you credit, but it’s unnecessary,” Ian said. “I’ll lure the demons into the portal when the time comes.”
“No!” Raven exclaimed.
His father gave him the look he always used to shut him down. “End of discussion.”
Despite that, Raven wouldn’t let it go. “Mr. Mime, if a human passes through the portal into the underworld, can he get out again?”
The warlock frowned. “Few people pass into the underworld and live to talk about it. It should be considered a one-way trip.”
“Do you have everything you need to create the portal?” Ian asked.
“Mmm…yes, but I only have enough ingredients to cast the spell one time.”
“Right now, our plan is to take the Leap Day child out of the city a day before March first.”
“So you’ve discovered the child’s identity?” Mime asked.
“It’s a closely guarded secret, so we can’t say the name out loud,” Chase said. “No offense.”
Mime cocked his head, seemingly puzzled. “None taken.”
“Once we know the child is safely out of reach, we’ll set the trap and rid L.A. of its demons,” Ian said.
“I’ll be ready,” Mime said. “Just say the word.”
Chapter Seventeen
L.A. on Fire
AFTER SHE FINISHED HER HOMEWORK, Tori pulled out an old duffle bag and assembled some things to take with her to Blackfriars the following afternoon. Replenishing her wardrobe was just a short drive home, but she wanted enough clothes to last at least until the weekend. As she was debating whether or not to pack extra leotards and tights for pointe class or just rinse out the ones in her dance bag, she heard piano music coming from downstairs. Moments later, Misty began to sing.
Tori hastened to the living room and curled up on the sofa to listen to her foster mother play and sing her signature hit—a hard hitting pop-rock ballad which had gone platinum long before she was born. The tune was catchy, and Tori found herself humming along. Suddenly, she flashed back to when her parents were alive. The three of them would sit in this living room, listening and singing along as Misty played. Sometimes she and her mother would dance together…until her father cut in to dance with them both. A feeling of nostalgia for those times hit her so forcefully that tears filled her eyes and spilled over.
As the song came to a close, Tori blotted her face and mustered a smile. “That was beautiful.”
Before Misty could respond, a substantial tremor shook the house and sent the hanging light fixtures swaying. Her foster mother lowered the fall over the keyboard, and beckoned Tori to join her in the doorway of the living room for safety. As the quake continued, the statuette of Venus de Milo fell from the mantle and shattered on the hearth below.
/> “Oh, no!” Tori said.
“It’s all right. It wasn’t important.” Misty winced when the tinkling of glass from the kitchen indicated another loss. “I hope that wasn’t one of the fluorescent light bulbs over the sink.”
“I’m guessing from the sound it was the flower vase on the ledge.”
“Good. I hate that vase.” Although Misty’s attempt at humor was contradicted by the tension in her face, as soon as the shaking stopped she smiled. “It’s over.”
“That was at least a four point five, don’t you think?” Tori said.
“Maybe even a five. You know, I’ve lived through many major quakes in California, and can tell you exactly what I was doing when each one hit. I used to think about moving, but this is where the work was.”
“Any regrets?”
“Not a one. In fact, I wish I could do it all over again. Perhaps I will, in my next lifetime.”
Tori laughed. “Thanks for the song. It brought back some good memories.”
She turned to go, but Misty stopped her.
“Hold on a moment. I want you to have something.” The older woman tugged a cocktail ring off her finger and pressed it into Tori’s hand. “A very wealthy lover gave this to me when I was young and glamorous. Don’t lose it, it’s worth a fortune.”
Taken aback, Tori gaped at the exquisite square-cut Tanzanite and diamond platinum ring which still retained the warmth from Misty’s hand. “I can’t possibly accept this.”
“Early birthday present.”
A lump formed in Tori’s throat and she gave Misty a hug. “You’re the best foster mother anyone could ever have, but it’s too much.”
Misty sighed and slid it back onto her finger. “All right, I’ll wait a bit and give it to you when the time is right.”
Although Tori smiled, she couldn’t imagine when it would be appropriate for Misty to give her such an expensive gift. What had prompted her foster mother’s generous impulse?
“You’re not worried about the surgery, are you?” she asked.
Dancing With Raven (The Young Shakespeareans Series) Page 17
